Vices and Virtues
by Rankin
Summary: After running for years Francesca can finally catch her breath. But when falling in love with a MacManus one can only keep their breath for so long.
1. Chapter 1

"On your knees bitch"

They had me by my hair, pulling my head back wards towards the heavens. There were five of them all large men wielding guns and all Italian Mafioso. They had me in a dark alley somewhere in South Boston, no one for miles I reckon.

I'd been running from them for years. My father had made deals with the Italian mafia. I had never known the specifics of the deal, but I do know that my father never met his end of the deal. He and my mother were killed in our home. Both had been placed on their knees, heads pulled backwards and a gun poised, cocked and fired to the back of their skulls.

I was 19 hiding in a closet. I saw it all. I escaped by a hair and have been running since.

* * *

So here I am. Head pulled back by the hair, on my knees, five men around me one with a gun to my head. They're all snarling, with a look of pure pride and satisfaction. They finally caught me. These men get to go back to Yakavetta smirks on their faces and claim they were the ones who finally got me. Finally put a bullet into little Francesca Sullivan finally tied up the loose end that had been running around the states in means to escape them for five years.

I honestly can't say I wasn't ready for this. After running for years it's kind of a relief to know I don't have to run anymore. I put up a good fight I never surrendered and I could die with dignity.

_"I accept from Your hands this be my means of death  
if it does please You to send me to this night  
with all its pains, penalties and sorrows;  
in reparation for all of my sins.  
In Gods name , Amen"_

Under my breath I whispered a prayer of acceptance, I was ready. No more ready to die then at this second.

Cold iron to the back of my skull.

I let my eyes shift to the night sky, I would not let these mens faces be the last thing I see.

Gun poised, _click_, gun cocked.

I was ready.

Initial bang sounded, was I dead?

Four more shots rang out, I can't be dead. One shot would have done away with me. My head no longer being held back slumped forwards and rested on my chest. I stayed on my knees slumped but still upright. Why was I not dead? My ears were ringing, my breath was shallow and I felt faint.

I wasn't alone, that I knew. But all my bravery was used up in the acceptance of my death and my situation I just did not have the courage to raise my head and face what was currently the unknown.

I listened. Two people I could deduct were furiously moving around me, I suspect their picking up bullet shells. Dealing with evidence leaving no mark of their presence. I heard prayers being whispered, giving the dead their last rites. Maybe they'll just clean up and leave. I could only hope that if I stayed still they would leave me here, childish hope but hope all the same.

A hand touched my shoulder. Someone was crouched to my right.

" Ye think she's concious Murph?" A distinctly male and heavily accented voice inquired.

A hand came to my chin and I became aware of another man crouched infront of me. Pressure was gingerly applied and my face raised for inspection. A tear leaked from beneath my lashes.

"Aye, lass your in good 'ands now. Open yer eyes" Again male and Irish.

Drawing in a shaking breath I decided these men friendly, they'd saved me. Gaining courage I opened my eyes and stared straight into the blue eyes, they seemed worried but trustworthy.

The man smiled and I unceremoniously and very stereotypically fainted.

* * *

**AN**

My first chapter of my first story. I would love reviews and suggestions ashow to better the story, but do not expect them. Next update will come as soon as I'm done so within the week.

-Rankin


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up after fainting has never been my favourite thing. You wake up disoriented then you have to figure out how you got where you are and the events that led up to losing consciousness. It's one of the more unpleasant feelings in life.

I woke up on a hard mattress. I'm not one to be judgmental though. After running from the Italian mafia for the length of time I have, simply waking up in a bed is a privilege. I kept my eyes closed as I went over the events that led me here.

I had been saved by two men. Irish if I remember correctly. But that doesn't mean that the Italians weren't still after me, this just meant that now their after me for having minimal knowledge of a previous assassination and now I am potentially suspected for the death of 5 of there street soldiers. Why didn't they just let them kill me? Don't mind my angst but what good did saving me do for them.

I sighed and opened my eyes, I might as well wake up and face my circumstances before I lose the courage and pretend to go back to sleep. The ceiling said a lot about the apartment as a whole. I didn't need to look around to know I wasn't in a good part of town. In the ceiling alone there were tons of cracks that would promise leaks if it were to rain.

"She's up, Connor get yer ass in 'ere she's awake!" The man with the brown hair came into my line of vision looking down at me. He gently grabbed me under my arms and propped me up.

A blonde man was sitting at the table taking a pull from a cigarette a Guinness in his other hand resting on the table. He was watching me carefully.

"Fine where I am Murph, the lass' scared enough with ou' the two of us in 'er face" he said eyes meeting mine then looking over my face, seemingly assessing the damage there. I must look horrible; the Italians had been more then rough about their business with me.

"Hi" I managed to get out, my voice cracking and hoarse.

The brown haired one, Murph as he had been called by the blonde man, smiled at me.

"She speaks!" he laughed. "What's yer name lass"

"Francesca" my voice still hoarse but sounding better.

"Well Francesca I'm Murphy and this 'ere is my brother Connor." He looked at a loss as for what else to say.

I didn't blame him. He must have tons of questions, many of which I don't want to answer. These men saved my life, with no reason. They went out of their way and saved someone who other wise would have been another name on the list of the mafias' casualties. They deserved honest answers no matter how hard the question.

Sighing I painfully swung my legs off the side of the bed. Making a move to stand Murphy jumped to my side, ready to help as Conner was quickly manoeuvring his way over to be of help as well.

"I'm fine honestly." Releasing a shaky breath.

"No yer not, you've bin beaten an yer in no shape te be walkin'." It was Connor who spoke this time.

"I'm fine, really I just can I at least move to the couch, this is obviously one of your beds, I hate to intrude"

" Aye, it's me bed. I 'ave no problem with ye stayin' there ,but since yer insistent"

Each of the boys took one of my arms and helps me hobble my way over to the couch. I was hurt more then I thought I would be. My hip killed, I didn't need to see it to know that the steel toed boots had left a nasty bruise, and my right side was on fire, probably in the same shape as my hip. My hand when I looked at it had been bandaged, with splints to help my broken fingers repair themselves properly.

They set me on the couch gently, handed me a blanket and went back to the table behind the couch and continued what they had been doing before I woke up. They must have realised that I may need awhile to get a grip on my current situation.

I sat and thought, they were conversing lightly with each other while enjoying a beer and smoke, they quickly became pleasant back ground noise to my thinking. I came to the decision I was safe for the time being. Many people would be worried about their safety, these men obviously carried around guns, and were capable of killing. I had learned early in life that not all people capable of killing are bad. These men had not yet given me reason to believe them able to kill without reason, these men so far had only proved themselves good, and I would treat them as so until they proved themselves otherwise.

On first impression I could already see the difference between the two. They seemed to be related some how they're movements seemed identical and their relationship close. But there were obvious character differences. While Murphy seemed spontaneous, social and humorous Connor seemed more reserved , thoughtful and mature of the two. Their different personalities seemed to balance them.

I let myself slouch into the back of the couch completely relaxed and at ease. I let my mind wander and numb itself. I was safe.

* * *

AN.  
Still developing the characters just hang in there the story will pick up soon.  
-Rankin


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a week since I woke up on Murphy's bed disoriented after they had saved me from an assassination by Italian street soldiers. Normally it would take me awhile to warm up to people generally months to be honest. After running for 5 years warming up to people could be a slow process for me. But the MacManus brothers, they pulled me in, treated me like their own and never prodded for information.

The only questions they had asked within the past week had been:

"Why is the Italian mob after you?" -Which I answered honestly, they took the answer and like good men didn't kick me out of their place. They actually seemed pleased to find out I hadn't done anything wrong or immoral, rather I had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Do you care if we smoke in 'ere?"- In which I answered "No, it's your place" but they still have decided it better to smoke on the fire escape outside the window in the kitchen, which I find very considerate.

And lastly,

"Do ye mind if we call ye Fran?" to which Murph added " Aye, Francesca don' suit ye, an too long te say anyway." – To this I just laughed and told them I really didn't care. They haven't called me by my full name since.

* * *

Currently I was lying on the couch; naturally I woke up before the boys. They would go out at night and come in early in the morning sometimes drunk, sometimes totally sober. When drunk they came home with at most a bruise or two. It seemed that when they came home sober they came home with the most injuries. So far there had been nothing more then a few more major bruises as well as some scratches and burns. But by how nonchalantly they treated these injuries I got the feeling some nights they may come home with more serious ones, that what I had seen so far had just been the beginning. But I never asked what it was they did, it was none of my business.

The boys had bought me some hair dye and had helped my cut my hair, this was their attempt at making me unrecognizable. My hair had been changed from blonde too a dark copper that contrasted well with my skin, and had been cropped from the middle of my back to just around the top of my breast. They also bought me some new clothes to which I protested, but allowed seeing as I really did need them. The boys had been nothing but angels to me, willing to help with anything I needed and would help me bandage and splint my hand to make sure it the bones would heal correctly.

The boys were sleeping. Connor I had noticed spoke in his sleep I never knew what he was saying though he spoke in different languages, many I couldn't identify but I still found it rather intriguing. Currently he was muttering in something that sounded like Spanish but I couldn't be sure. Murphy snored but it was a slightly adorable trait on him so I couldn't really find it annoying as I used to when my father would snore.

Walking lightly over to the coffee machine, I began my morning routine. Make coffee, take a shower, pour coffee, drink coffee, search through the classifieds for any job I was qualified for. Hadn't found anything yet, but I promised myself that when my hand was set and I could take the bandages off I would go on the streets and look door to door for a job, currently I knew I would be turned down because of my injury.

Getting in the shower I felt like I had struck gold when the shower decided to spout warm water today, rare occurrence I had heard, and experienced in the past week. Half way through the shower I heard the door open and someone stumble in. The boys had come home drunk off their rockers last night and it was still early so I guess whoever it was, was still inebriated. They turned on the tap.

The water turned deadly cold within 2 seconds.

"SHIT!" The cold water hitting my back scared me and knocked the breath out of me as it set me in action. I jumped out of the shower. Running for the towel cupboard.

Connors eyes followed me the whole way. Had I looked then I would have seen his surprise turn into a smirk, then into the unreadable expression likely to spare him an ass kicking.

"Fran?" Hint of a smirk still in his voice though his face was void of it.

" Fuck Connor, you just blasted me with the cold water. Holy. Shit." I was shivering trying to warm my arms up with friction from my hands while holding up the towel.

"I didin know ye were in 'ere Fran sorry." He looked sincere, but he made no move to leave the bathroom. I watched as he blatantly checked me out, a slow rake of the eyes from head to toe, lingering at the typical places. I'm sure had he been totally sober and had not just woken up it wouldn't have happened, it was unlike Connor to be disrespectful, or rude in anyway when it came to the ladies.

"Connor, get the fuck out."

He swallowed, Adams apple bobbing as it usually did when he was nervous. "Aye." And he obediently turned around and staggered out the door.

Changing into my clothes quickly I slipped into the kitchen/ bed/ living room area and went to pour my coffee. I found my mug already poured with the newspaper beside it. Looking around I found Connor wasn't even in the apartment and his shoes were missing from beside the door. Sighing I carried on my routine.

* * *

It was 2pm when Murphy crawled his way out of bed. Rubbing his eyes and stretching.

"Good mornin' Fran," Yawning he looked around. "Where's Conn?"

"He went out around 930 or so. Didn't say where he was going."

Murphy looked confounded at this and put on what I would call his pondering face. Murphy was on of those people that let their emotions and thinking play out on their face. It made him easy to talk to because you could always tell his honest reaction. You could always tell when he was joking, or when he was dead serious. It made him easier to talk to then his brother who was more guarded with his responses.

He shrugged it off though obviously still worried, Conn rarely left without telling anyone where he was going.

"Better come back with smokes, he's was stealin' mine all nigh'. Know wha' else he did? He fuckin' made me carry 'im home, too fuckin' drunk ta walk he says , then 4 hrs later he's perfectly fine ta fuckin' go for a walk an not come back. I say he doesn't have smoke's we deny 'im entry into our 'umble abode." He concluded and then looked at my conspiratorially, while gesturing with large arm movements to our 'humble abode'.

Almost immediately after Murph finished his rant the door burst open slamming against the wall behind it before recoiling and closing on its own accord. "FUCK, THE FUCKER SHOT ME" he was clutching his shoulder blood seeping through his t-shirt. Time seemed to slow to a stand still as I watched Murphy spring into action.

I stood there doing nothing. Connor was shot and I was doing nothing. Staring gaping as the boys shouted at each other. Murphy trying his best to get his brother to sit and stop shouting.

I sprang into action my nurse training coming back to me.

* * *

**AN**

_HAPPY FUCKING SAINT PATTYS_  
_tonight will be spent in a leprechaun outfit, listening to Irish drinking songs, drinking green beer and Jameson.  
**Enjoy your St Pattys but of corse enjoy responsibly. **  
Reviews wouldbe loved. Generosity is a virtue and a verygood quality that should be extended on this holy day._

Any issues in this chapter I am srry for I spouted this out for St Pattys as quick as I could. Next chapter will be better.  



	4. Chapter 4

Murphy was trying to take the bullet out of Connor's shoulder, fishing around in the wound with a knife. God I hope he had had the brains to sterilize it. He was doing more harm then good, his unsteady and shaking hands leading the knife to be creating a bigger wound then the bullet had. His emotional state was noticeably worse then Connors, causing the situation to be degrading rapidly.

Stepping out of my fazed state , my nursing training and instinct took over.

First step, take control of the situation.

Putting on my authoritarian voice I grabbed the knife from Murphy. "Murphy, go get the Jameson from the cupboard."

"Fuck ye Fran, we done this before, an ye don't know what the fuck yer doing so fuck off." He began trying to take the knife back from me.

"No fuck you Murph. I went to school to be a nurse. Did you even fucking sterilize this eh?" He blanched at that, apparently I was giving him too much credit to have even hoped he would have sterilized it. "Go get the fucking Jameson, then since you guys I doubt have stitching supplies of any kind I really hate to do this but I'm going to have to cauterize this. So I also need you to turn on a burner on the stove and get a knife on it just leave it and let it heat up"

Currently I was applying pressure to the wound while Murphy ran around completing the tasks I had given him. I looked up at Connors face. He had his eyes open, he looked alert and calm which was a good sign. The alertness because I knew he hadn't lost too much blood and the calm because I could only deal with one twin going insane at this moment. He winced.

"Can ye ease up, Fran?" he looked me in the eye. He was calm. A calm that told me this had happened before, though not a regular occurrence it wasn't rare. I eased up but still maintained a decent pressure on the wound

Murphy appeared with a bottle of Jameson, I handed him the knife. I didn't need to tell him what to do. Pouring the whiskey over the blade making sure to completely sterilize it he then handed it to me with a guilty look on his face over not having sterilized it to begin with.

"Okay Conn I'm going to need you to relax your shoulder as much as you can, the least relaxed you are the more damage I could end up doing to surrounding muscles." He nodded in response.

I took a deep breathe and let my thoughts drone out the pacing, and chain smoking Murphy had begun behind me. I steadied my hands and went to work. It took all of 2 minutes to dislodge and retrieve the bullet with minimal damage.

Now came the part I was dreading I hated having to cauterize this wound. Cauterizing though faster and more convenient, had a risk of infection far too high for my liking. But I wasn't even going to propose we go to the hospital, if they had wanted to go or were able to go to the hospital Connor would have walked there and not here. Or Murphy would have insisted he went the minute he ran in the door.

"Is the knife ready Murph?" I didn't want to look at Connors face, he knew what was coming.

"Aye."

"Okay before we do this, Murphy pour a shot of Jameson."

Murph raised an eyebrow at me but didn't question me. He poured a shot and handed it to me. I looked at Conn; he smirked and allowed me to pour it into his mouth.

"You're my kinda nurse Fran." Conn laughed then winced at the movement.

Looking apologetically at Connor I turned to Murphy. "Can you hold him down? Just like wrists and shit." Murphy nodded in response.

I got up and retrieved the knife off the burner. Walking up behind the chair Connor was sitting on, knowing it more dangerous if I were in front and he lashed out. I waited a minute, I would do no count down, count downs were brutal it was better he didn't know it was coming. Both brothers were getting antsy waiting. Right when I could tell Connor was about to razz me out on how to get on with it I forcefully applied the knife to the wound.

"FUCKING JESUS CHRIST WOMAN"

Quickly I brought on other hand around and placed it over his mouth. We didn't need anyone calling the cops on means of disturbance. He bit into my hand but I kept it there.

_One Mississippi, two Mississippi…twenty Mississippi. _

Taking the knife off the wound after a good twenty seconds I took my hand off Connors mouth, I got busy bandaging the burn.

"Yer hand is bleeding, aw shit I'm sorry Fran." Connor whispered to me as I was applying the gauze to his shoulder. I shook my head to communicate that no apology was needed. Reading his expression I could tell he was going to press on about it so I quickly changed topic.

"What'd you do to end up like this Conn?" I sighed. "I know it's none of my business what you and your brother do, you saved my life and gave me a place to stay but." I groaned I didn't even know how to go about this. This was none of my business but I still wanted to know and to be honest I felt like I had the right to know. These boys in the short time I had been here had become important to me seeing Connor like this it hurt.

Connor looked at Murphy. They seemed to be having one of those twin conversations you always hear about. No talking involved minimal facial movement and expression but they understood the other perfectly.

"Wrong place, wrong time." He shrugged his shoulders. _Lie._

I sighed, and reminded myself it was none of my business what the twins did. As long as I was there to help when they needed it and no one died I was fine with not knowing. At least for the time being.

"Conn, go to bed you look past exhausted"

"Thank ye for this Fran," Connor whispered in my ear, and kissed me on the cheek before taking my suggestion and walking across the room and plopping down on his mattress seeminly to instantly fall asleep.

I was left sitting at the kitchen table blushing.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN- I pounded this one out tonight. Hope you like it, it's just a quick update. **  
**As always reviews are loved- Thank you to **_TheImmortalChaplin_** & **_ErisandDysomnia_** for their reviews so far**

* * *

I woke up to the sound of bickering. I couldn't blame Connor, Murphy could be an annoying grouch in the morning, today was no exception. So from what I gather a tired and recently shot and bandaged Connor was getting pissed off at Murphy's behaviour.

I stayed where I was on the couch, laying with my eyes closed listening.

"It's yer turn to wash the fucking dishes Murph."

"There's a good three days o' dishes 'ere they are by no means all my dishes to do. Plus the fucking cutlery has yer fucking blood on it so ye can wash the shit."

They must have been arguing over something else before I woke up because the tones they were speaking to each other in at this point by no means could have been just from the dishes subject. Whatever they had spoken of before must have hit a nerve in both of them though so it must have been really serious, it was hard to piss the twins off especially at each other.

"FUCK YE MURPH, I fuckin' get shot an ye want me te do 'he fucking dishes. Who de fuck do ye think ye are? Keep this up an I'll call Ma, tell her some not so pleasant thing ye bin doing lately, how 'bout that aye. Tell 'er you still bin biting yer nails to shit, smoke 10 times more then me, and that ye bin missin' church lately."

"Ye fucking wouldn't. An as if ye 'aven't missed church too. Yer no fucking Saint yerself so leave Ma out of this." Murphy was dead serious now.

I was just hoping and praying that this wouldn't escalate into one of their little scrabbles. Connors shoulder really wouldn't be able to take that right now. But to my relief something Murphy had said actually illicited a snicker from Connor.

"Aye, I ain't no Saint." Connor chuckled.

I decided that it was around time to get up. Their fight had been extinguished and the coast was clear. Plus it was about time to check out on Connors shoulder. Also by the sounds of it the dish subject was forgotten about, which meant I should probably get on the dishes.

* * *

I checked on Connors shoulder, put fresh wrappings and applied some anti-septic on it for good measure. I would have given him a Tylenol, as fruitless as that would be for such a wound it would still have been a comfort. But Connor had taken to self medicating. Ten in the morning and he was nursing his second Guinness and was half way through his pack of smokes. I couldn't blame him his should looked nasty, plus it was right by a joint so every time he moved his arm or torso he would have felt it.

I didn't ask Connor or Murphy about their spat, but I got on the dishes. Murphy hadn't been lying when he said the knives still had blood on them. The metallic smell was getting to me so I couldn't just leave them there anymore. Filling the sink with water and soap I began the task of three days worth of dishes.

"Aye, ye don't have te do dat lass." Connor walked over and leant against the counter beside me.

"This place reeks of blood, beer, smoke and rotting food. I can take the beer and the smoke, the blood and food is another case."

"Ye bin doing them all week, let Murph or me do 'em."

I sighed blew my hair out of my face looked up at him.

"I'm fine"

"Fine, misery needs 'er company so I'll keep ye company lass." He smirked obviously he thought he was clever. He could be on his bed and still be in the same room as me, 'keeping me company' but he was obviously comfortable where he was. "So tell me 'bout yerself." He said placing a smoke between his lips, lighting up, inhaling and exhaling out to the side away from me.

I continued washing the dishes, slightly touched by his consideration.

* * *

"What do ye want to know, currently you know more about me then I do you."

"Ye ask one I ask one?" He proposed.

Okay I could do that. "Okay."

"Yer full name, including middle."

"Francesca Emer Sullivan" I smiled. I loved my name. My family was originally from Montreal Canada but had moved to New York when I was little. My family had been part of the rather large Irish Montreal population. My father himself had been straight from Ireland, hopped off the boat at Pier 21, and met my mother within the week. My name revealed my French Irish heritage perfectly and I bore it proudly.

"French, an Irish interestin' can ye speak French?" Connor inquired.

"Sorry, my turn your question can wait." I laughed as Connor pulled a pouting face that looked oddly adorable on him. "Why did you and Murphy come to the States?"

"Startin' with the big ones are ye? We came lookin' for our father. Ma said he came over here on a mission of sorts. She believes he is in jail. We 'aven't been able to find 'im yet, but God will reveal 'im when he sees fit." Connor was stubbing out the last of his cigarette on the counter, pulling out his smokes to light another one.

I had no response to that. I had become slightly envious of the twins undoubting belief in God. It held such a place in their life, it kept them grounded and left them with contentment it seemed. I had gone to church as a child, my parents heavily religious, but as it played out I could never have that undoubting belief they had, I was always full of questions when it came to faith and the answers I was given were hardly satisfactory.

While furiously scraping a particularly stuck on piece of some tomato paste like substance from around three days ago off a plate Connor posed his next question. It looked like he was having difficulty with how he was going to word it; I could tell that this was the question he really had wanted to ask. I felt as if the answer to this question may matter more then he was trying to make it out to.

" Ye 'eard of the Saints right?" I nodded, not sure what this had to do with anything. He wanted to know about me, how could my opinion on the Saints mean anything?.

"Do ye think what they've bin doing is right?" It looked like it sort of pained him to ask the question. As if my answer could physically hurt him in some way.

I thought for a minute. Did I think what they were doing was right. They were playing God in a sense, deciding who lives and who dies. But they were also saving lives, innocent lives by what they were doing. I myself would have avoided so many problems and not had to have been running for the last five years if someone had just taken care of the mob. The court system here in the states was useless when it came to real criminals. Petty thieves and other small criminals got put behind bars while the big guys sat on their throne and fell through the cracks and loopholes in the justice system. But was playing God anyone's job?

"I think" I took a deep breathe needing this to come out right. I kept my eyes on the dishes I was washing "I think someone needs to do it. The cops are useless and easily corrupted, while the justice system has too many loopholes and cracks. It needs to be done to keep innocents safe in the city, the Saints seem to be doing it right, and seem to be whacking the right people. So until they fuck up and kill the wrong people I'm for what they've bin doing."

Connor smiled.

The phone rang, Murphy jumped to grab it. Connor and I were quiet as we listened to the one sided conversation on our end.

Murphy hung up the phone.

"Rocco's comin' over"

"Who's Rocco?"

* * *

**AN.  
So This takes place before the guys meet their Da(formally) and Rocco dies.  
Connors shot wound is of fiction, not n the movie.  
For my sake they hav already done the jo where their da comes out with 6 guns and all so we're right in between the 2 right now if that helps anyone.  
And we get to see Rocco now, he holds a special place in my heart. Rocco is prob the best character ever written (creds Troy Duffy).  
**  
**Reviews are proven to increase update speed and creativity flow. And are greatly appreciated. **  
**-Rankin**


End file.
